


For the Living

by Spacepolitician



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21546031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacepolitician/pseuds/Spacepolitician
Summary: Dimitri raised his left hand and grabbed the hilt of the dagger that now felt too small in his overgrown palm. For a moment, he wondered whether to pull it out or push it in deeper.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 81





	For the Living

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING: This short fic is the final cutscene of the Blue Lions route in writing. 
> 
> Read while listening to the soundtrack "Light and Shadow". Hope you enjoy.

A dark, crimson spot began to spread on the white fur of Dimitri’s cape. He would barely describe the stinging sensation in his right shoulder as pain. Edelgard’s hand remained floating in the air for another long moment, as though reaching out to him, as she had before, when they were younger — when she had taught him to dance, when she had helped him back on his feet during sparring practices. Except now, it was she who was on her knees, her arm finally dropping limply to her side, blood disappearing into the scarlet of her uniform.

Dimitri wished he had blinded his other eye, too, for he knew that the sight of Edelgard’s chest rising for the last time was a ghost that would haunt him for the rest of his wretched days.

He pulled back Areadbhar, unsheathing the lance from her flesh. The lance that Dimitri’s beloved father had once wielded now cleaved Dimitri’s beloved stepsister. How strange was the jest of time.

Edelgard’s body bent over. Her red cape flared like a rose petal around her cold body. Her forehead hit the floor, as though prostrating before him. And the disease Dimitri had festered in his heart for the past five years caught flames, scorched his chest, and cooled into smoke. He raised his left hand and grabbed the hilt of the dagger that now felt too small in his overgrown palm. For a moment, he wondered whether to pull it out or push it in deeper.

The answer was given via the metallic sound of Byleth’s sword returning into its sheath. Dimitri tightened his fingers around the hilt and pulled. It was the horrible absence of pain that made him grunt under his breath. The damp, red spot grew larger on the shoulder of his cape. The blade hit the floor with a loud cling, near Edelgard’s head.

In the past five years, and with every man and woman he had slain, he had desired nothing but to see what was now before him: Edelgard’s corpse, bent, broken and bleeding on the cold floor. Had her body always been so small?

Byleth’s receding footsteps were his cue. He turned on his heels, and walked away from the short-reigned Empress.

Dimitri had once respected Edelgard, loved her, lusted for her blood. Now, he felt none of those. He had taken the life of the only one whose presence had saved him at his loneliest, the only one whose betrayal had cut so deep as to topple him over into madness. He had taken that life and perhaps, he had done so rightfully.

Perhaps not.

He should have at least collected the dagger — a bitter token of the decade past, spent, lost. A token of his love, his madness, and the grieving that he had yet to do. The thought gave him pause, and he began to turn. Warm fingers instantly curled around his hand, the touch almost giving him a start. He looked up, and saw himself in Byleth's weary expression. Dimitri pressed his lips together, and let Byleth’s eyes guide him, as they had many times before.

Yes, he would grieve Edelgard when the right time came. For now, the war had to end, order had to return to Faerghus whose people had suffered far too much, and for far too long. Dimitri owed at least that much to his people, his friends at the Officers Academy, Rodrigue, and more than anyone, Byleth. Byleth who had stayed by his side through all of this madness, who had stood up to him and reminded him of his forgotten humanity, of his tainted honour. He owed her that much, and owed her much more.

Byleth pushed the doors of the Monastery open. Warm, blinding sunlight slipped inside. The silence was overtaken by the roars of soldiers and civilians on the other side of the walls. Byleth’s fingers gave his hand a firm squeeze before letting go.

Dimitri breathed. Redemption was beyond his reach, but perhaps healing was not. Perhaps he could never retrieve his innocence, could never live for himself again. Had he ever? He had spent nine long years living for the dead. Yet, Byleth was alive, Faerghus was alive, and so was the flicker of a belief he once held dearly in his heart. It was now time for him to live for the living.


End file.
